Star Fox: Cataclysm
by Red Squirrel Writer
Summary: Krystal has vanished into deep space, and Lylat has at last found peace. Without purpose, Fox McCloud prepares to retire. But a new threat is on the horizon. All Lylat must take up arms again, and face down dark secrets that should never have surfaced...
1. Burnout

Stars were the first thing Fox McCloud remembered seeing. In space, distances were so vast that stars seemed to remain stationary even when he was traveling at incredibly high speeds. But these stars were moving. Cartwheeling, free falling, and spinning. A dizzying, dazzling display of the cosmic bodies that guided so many to opportunity, to fortune, and to death and failure. These selfsame celestial bodies had guided him to a fate far worse than any of those.

Somehow, he didn't find the energy to care that the laws of physics were being broken right outside the window. He perceived that he was in a ship of some kind, but it was small, cramped, noisy. He could hear the rattle of the ship's infrastructure near his left ear, pressed into the cold metal floor as it was. Beneath that was the deep, almost reassuring rumble of the ship's engines. He didn't remember where he was in relation to Lylat, how he had gotten inside this ship, or why things seemed so distant and listless. He supposed those things didn't matter anymore. Not after what had happened. It seemed so long ago, he could have sworn those things happened to a different Fox, another's life, another's worries. He found himself wishing that this was all some terrible, cliched dream, one that he would wake up from once this ship reached its destination.

Obviously, that would be the ground. Or perhaps the fiery well of Solar. Either one, really, he believed he would die no matter which one he ran into first.

At the edge of his senses he realized that it was not the stars moving, but the ship. It was rolling about, tumbling, apparently trying to realign itself for whatever entry it was programmed for. She had programmed it, he remembered. To save him. To get rid of him. Maybe it was some kind of revenge for what he'd done to her.

Fox felt his chest tighten at the memory.

He had been a fool to think he could actually make things right again. It had been a fool's errand with a fool's hope, and a fool's ending. Now he was alone all over again, with a very bleak future ahead.

Why, he wondered, had it come to this? He remembered the how, the reasons, the circumstances, but where was the justification? Where was the rationale? Why him, and why her? What kind of universe was this that demanded so much of one m an? Was there an actual purpose behind it all? There had to be. He wanted to believe that. Or he'd go insane trying to reason it all out.

_I don't even remember the last time I smiled. _

The rumbling increased, and the ship began shaking. Suddenly the stars leveled out, and it was starting to get brighter inside the ship. He was entering the atmosphere now, or at least he figured as much. Whatever came after impact was of no consequence to him. He didn't feel much, except the ache in his heart, and the all too empty space between his arms.

* * *

"We picked up the signal about three hours ago."

"Has it changed at all?"

"No, sir."

"Damn, that means he's either dead or unconscious… we need to pick up the pace!"

"Yes, sir!"

Falco Lombardi was not a patient man. He had always been known as the jockey, the spitfire of Star Fox. He could still remember the "old days," a bare fifteen years ago, when Star Fox had first formed. The incredible, heroic deep strike behind enemy lines when Andross had made his bid for power. He remembered Peppy giving him a hard time over not working as much as the others or Slippy always covering for him when it came time for boring maintenance. He was only a touch over thirty, and he felt like a doddering clone of old Hare. Somehow, things had changed since then, with the onset of getting older and the responsibilities a hero like him had. Oh, there were still the reminders of the glory days, with news interviews, screaming teenage girls, and autograph and book signings. Of course, Slippy was the one who wrote all the books these days.

But the one thing that held them all together had started to collapse.

He watched forest scenery go by with a scowl as he tightened his grip on the ATV's door frame. Branches and bushes were crushed mercilessly under the vehicle's wheels, and suddenly he wished he was the one doing the driving. The ATV, known as a Sidewinder, pitched and jumped and bounced over the uneven terrain, but kept its footing sure. It was a good, reliable vehicle, even if it could only hold six people and wasn't very well armed. But they weren't looking for a fight. They were looking for Fox.

Fox McCloud was always the head honcho, he realized that. Fox was the strong, silent leader, the young mercenary who had had to grow up too fast. Falco's life had been hard, but he always took it head-on, with a smirk on his face and blasters in his hands. His dad had been a worthless drunk and his mother had barely been around, despite all her love for him. But they had gone away a long time ago. Fox on the other wing had a much more saccharine and soppy story, what with all the treachery and murder and all that. Falco supposed the experience had toughened Fox up in ways he would never understand, given him a mysterious charisma unique to him. The interviews all featured Falco, but questions always led back to how good old Fox was holding up, what a wonderfully strong spirit the guy must have. The teenage girls screamed Falco's name, but they always sighed when they said Fox's.

Falco sometimes felt like Slippy was the only guy who nobody really cared about, and _he _was too much of a goody-two-shoes to care that nobody cared about him. Falco didn't hold a grudge, though. He was past that. He had never figured himself to be a mature guy, but there were depths to him that even he didn't know.

Fox wasn't just a leader. He was a friend. His only real friend, anymore at least. Peppy was using his still strong voice to yell at subordinates at Cornerian Central Command, Slippy was off being married (the very idea was slightly repulsive to him), and Katt… well, Katt was off doing whatever she did whenever they weren't getting together for another couple months. Their on-again off-again relationship was great stuff for the editorials and system net blogs, but Falco knew there wasn't any spark with her. Bill was alright to hang out with every once in a while and go clubbing when he had shore leave, but that was it.

Fox was dependable, and if Falco knew anything in life, it was to pay back the ones who were dependable. Besides, he didn't really have a choice. Fox was the soul of Star Fox, the one who had started it (under Peppy and Pepper's guidance, but still), who had molded it into what it was today. And today it was a shamble, a wreck, a shadow of its former self. It had all started, and ended, with Krystal.

Falco used another bump in the road to hide a growl in the back of his throat. Krystal was responsible for bringing Fox the greatest happiness and drive he had ever known, and for dragging him to the miserable depths he was in now. She was one of the reasons Falco never tried to get into a stable relationship. He couldn't really blame Fox, she was a real head-turner after all, but she had just expected too much of the guy. It was all her fault for practically jumping into his lap after Sauria, asking to join a team she had no experience in, asking for Fox's attention and warmth and all kinds of other sappy stuff, and then stabbing the guy in the back when he tried to tell her he was worried about her. Twice now she had run off and left them all behind, and Fox had still followed after her like a kicked puppy holding out for a pet on the head every now and then.

On top of all that, she was an alien. Falco had never really forgotten that, which just made their relationship even weirder when it had started. He had left after their first break- up mostly because he couldn't stand to see Fox all broken up and unable to even fly like he used to. But her joining Star Wolf after the Aparoid war had been the last straw. Falco was officially just angry with the woman, wherever she was now. All of Fox's love and endearing confusion, all his devotion and scatter-brained loyalty to a vixen who probably had never actually loved him had brought them here, to a remote forest on Sauria far from civilization. Krystal was gone, and he hoped it was for good. But Fox needed his help now.

"We're coming up on the target area, sir."

Falco grunted at the private in the driver's seat next to him. He had never really gotten over being called sir ever since he had been made a colonel in the Lylat Systems Corps. As the first official defense force for all of Lylat, it had been about time they created it; it figured Peppy was the first guy smart enough to start up the whole thing. All those different army units for every single planet were getting confusing. As a colonel, a nominal one at least, he wielded a lot of technical authority. But he and almost everyone else knew it was for show, another little reward for all the times Star Fox had saved Lylat's collective rear end. Falco didn't know the first thing about commanding an army, but it was a nice little ego boost to see everyone salute when he walked by, and the official steady paycheque was awesome.

"It should be this clearing up ahead."

Falco let out a low whistle as they came upon the signs of Fox's passage. A huge furrow had been driven into the ground in front of them with blackened, blasted trees all around. The path of charred dirt and smoking foliage led up to the wreckage of Fox's ship. It wasn't an Arwing, Falco noticed. The idiot Fox had probably lost it or got it blasted by Wolf. O'Donnel had always been a pushover for all his bluster, but in Fox's state, Falco wouldn't be surprised if he had gained the upper hand at last. Then again, he didn't even know if Wolf would even fight Fox anymore. Nobody had heard from him for a long time, not even the black market contacts Peppy had established. Things had changed drastically in the year since the Anglar invasion. Peace finally seemed ready to reign, talk of colonization efforts into new systems was going around, Venom's ecosystem was at last taking a turn for the better, and Star Fox was being paid just for showing up. Falco snorted. Terrible as war was, peace was just boring. It would all be book signings and ribbon cutting from here on in, for the rest of his life.

The twisted heap of metal Fox had smashed into Sauria on was a cheap, old shuttle, the kind bankrupt mining companies or desperate couriers used. Was that how desperate Fox had gotten, how much he had lost that he was willing to fly such a junk pile? The Sidewinder rolled to a stop next to the sad little ship, which looked like it would never fly again. Even though it had been a beat up, useless piece of trash even before it crashed, Falco felt a twinge of regret for the little shuttle. He always liked things that could fly. His worst nightmare was being grounded.

He and the other soldiers piled out and began the short, tense search for Fox. Or maybe his corpse. By the look of things, it had been an incredibly rough landing. What circumstances had led to an indignant end like this, Falco wondered? Fox hadn't even told anyone that he would be gone. He could still remember the first tense few days of searching for him after he had gone in pursuit of the woman Fox thought he loved. The long months of waiting. Thirteen months, to be precise, of fretting, worrying, wondering, and eventually, hope fading. Some people had begun to even think that he really was never coming back. To everyone's surprise, he was still very much alive, sitting still against a charred but still standing fern. His knees were up against his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, his chin resting on top. Falco hurried over and knelt next to him while the medic with them dropped down and started running scans.

"Well, he's alive at least. A wonder he pulled himself out of that wreck. Nothing but minor cuts and abrasions," the feline reported. "No signs of major trauma. Mister McCloud, sir, could you please let me have a look at your chest?"

"Hold off man, give him some air!" Falco demanded, pushing away the demanding medic. He got up in Fox's face despite his earlier advice, and looked into his eyes.

"Fox," he said loudly. "You with me, buddy?"

What he saw made him shiver. Fox wasn't looking at anyone or anything. His eyes were empty and dull. He was staring right through him. Falco sighed and decided to get a little rough. He smacked Fox's cheek several times.

"Hey. Hey come on, Fox, you're tougher than this, huh? Snap out of it."

Fox didn't move. He did blink once, and his eyes flicked up to Falco's. He slowly uncurled himself and stood up, revealing a burn mark across the chest of his flight suit, but it hadn't penetrated very far. He moved back to the shuttle and stared.

"Fox?" Falco asked quietly. The other soldiers watched with trepidation.

Without a word, the canine touched the shuttle's hull.

"Shouldn't have left," he said brokenly. "I didn't bring back what I wanted to."

Falco bowed his head in understanding.

"You tried to find her again, Fox?"

_Whatever else you do, Fox... don't come after me._

"I don't know."

He looked up to the sky, but this time there was no hope in his eyes. Whenever Falco saw him stare at the stars, he had seen the fox possessed with a kind of confidence, an undeniable energy about him. But now he just saw sorrow and despair. Fox dropped to his knees in sight of them all. The leader of Star Fox, the hero of Lylat and the most respected man in the system, was nothing more than a broken shell of his former self.

"I just... I just know she's gone. Gone."

They stared in dismal silence, unsure of what to make of the sight of the warrior who had once proudly fought for the well-being of everyone around him. He had been a mercenary, but it was never really the money that had mattered. It was the fight. The struggle, the knowledge that he had a purpose that drove him and made him get up in the mornings. That fight was gone now. Lylat had been at peace for years now, but Fox McCloud was in the midst of his greatest turmoil.

Falco walked up behind his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder, as it was all he could think to do.

"Because of me," Fox said brokenly. The despair in his voice was plain for all to hear. Falco was only left with further confusion.

"Hey... hey, Fox, I'm... I'm sure that whatever happened it-!"

Fox interrupted, tearing his shoulder free of his friend's grasp and walking towards the hull of the ship.

"She said it herself, Falco! I heard it with my own ears! She left because of me..."

He threw a punch at the unyielding metal in front of him.

"Because of me, damn it! Me! She said so herself!" He punctuated each sentence with a harsh, crashing punch against the hull of the ship. Falco knew he could break his hand if he kept it up, but for some reason he didn't want to interfere. Fox went on, shouting obscenities and bashing his fists, as if trying to personally tear the shuttle apart. It was a futile endeavor, but Fox could feel nothing of the pain in his hands or even the twisting, wrenching emotions in his heart. There was nothing but icy cold, a desire to simply vent his frustrations until he was spent and too tired to remember why he had been angry. He wanted to forget all of this.

And, eventually, he did stop, with a sprained wrist and hands swollen with bruises. He had cut himself too, somewhere. With a final, decisive bang, he let his hands drop to his sides and rested his forehead against the shuttle, the sudden cold providing sharp relief from Sauria's tropical mugginess. There was stillness save for the noises of the forest and Fox's deep, heavy breathing. Off in the distance some dinosaur bellowed. Falco stood bewildered, constantly shifting his weight, watching the other soldiers fidget uncomfortably. Even with orders as clear as theirs- retrieve Fox McCloud- they wanted the legendary pilot to lead them again.

Fox himself was in turmoil. He had spent himself. For weeks now he had been tormenting his mind with what ifs and if onlys. And now he was back, with people looking up to him once more. For a moment anger threatened to spike again. What right did they have to expect _anything_ from him? How could they understand? He just wanted to go away and be left alone. There was nobody left in his life, there were no more wars to fight. His friends had achieved their dreams and then some. And him? He was left with nothing.

No, that wasn't quite true. He had told himself he couldn't go back, but if that was true, why was Falco here? Were Slippy and Peppy waiting too? If nothing else, couldn't he still just go back home? It wasn't much...

"Let's get out of here," Fox finally decided. There was a round of sighs from all the rest, and Falco finally gave himself permission to smile. He wrapped a friendly hand around Fox's shoulders.

"That's what I'm talking about, man. Come on, we'll take care of ya. I never liked Sauria anyway. There ain't any good bars here!"

For the time being, Fox thought his story was over, his life come to an abrupt conclusion, and now he would live alone until he died of old age. As he strapped himself into the waiting dropship and stared out over Sauria's endless, wild landscape, he convinced himself through tears and shaky breathing that, at the very least, his final fight had been met head-on, even if he wasn't successful. He could rest now. For some reason, in the back of his mind, he remembered that he hadn't been able to visit Tricky before he left. Maybe next time.

"Hey Fox," Falco piped up next to him.

"Hnnh?" the weary pilot replied.

"You ready?"

"For what?"

"Well, Lylat's gonna want to know where its favorite pilot has been! Things have gotten weird since you left. Venom is looking to join the Cornerian Alliance and the Systems Corps, and people aren't sure how they'll fit in. Papetoon's gettin' more civilized, and everyone's talking about a new space race to the next system over. It's a new world, Fox, and they're gonna want you to lead them in. Now personally I don't care, you take priority, but... we're gonna have to deal with all this."

McCloud stared long and hard at Falco, his deep green eyes dull and empty.

"I don't want to be their hero anymore."

Falco blinked a few times, looking as if he was mulling over something. Finally, he nodded.

"All right, Fox," he said as gently as he could. Fox went on as if he hadn't heard anything.

"I'm tired, Falco. We're mercenaries, man. We don't look for publicity, or peace. We look for jobs. But there are no more jobs. No more wars, no more pirates, no more nothing. Lylat's been used up. Hell, maybe even Star Wolf is going to go legit. All the fight's out of this place. Just like me. Krystal's gone, Falco. She was the only thing left I had to fight for. And I lost her."

He turned away, back to the window, as the ship began shaking during its atmospheric exit.

"I just want to be left alone."


	2. Sincere

Fox finally began to feel how tired he really was when he was shown to his private quarters aboard the _Lyra,_ an escort cruiser refitted for transporting dignitaries and important military personnel. Though still able to fend off minor pirate attacks on her own, the _Lyra_ contained all the amenities a homecoming hero would need. Spacious accommodations, a plush carpet, a large bed, and a fully functional kitchen made Fox feel more like a general than a mercenary. But he ignored it all. Instead of dropping onto the net and looking up the latest or plopping down onto the couch to flip mindlessly through the system broadcasts on the television, he grabbed a beer, dropped onto a chair near the wall, and commanded that it show him the starscape outside. The holographic emitters in the wall flickered to life and displayed the current view from the ship's port side. They were in orbit around Sauria, preparing to head to the orbital gate for the short hop back to Corneria. It was splendidly quiet.

Fox recalled how he had been brought aboard the ship. It had been with thankfully little fanfare, all those greeting him professional soldiers in the crisp uniforms of the newly formed Lylat Systems Corps. They didn't fawn over him or Falco. They had simply saluted, shown him to his quarters, and prepared to quietly shuttle him home. There was no great fleet assembled to pick him up, no triumphs prepared. Fox was grateful. Peppy had to have known he'd need rest when he got back.

Fox was still hoping that his return to the Lylat system would be kept a secret. He had hoped that in the intervening months he had been gone, his memory would have faded from the public mindset. For some reason he just felt empty, like he had nothing more to give to Lylat. There was nothing left to strive for except a soft bed and maybe getting drunk on weekends. Peppy would make sure he was taken care of, of course. Maybe he could go to Aquas and get a small place near Slippy. Next to the ocean, maybe. Weren't all the burnouts and retired rich guys supposed to go live at the beach? Slippy probably had a dozen kids by now. He'd have to go and visit if nothing else.

He finally remembered he was still holding his beer, but suddenly it didn't look very appetizing anymore. He did, after all, still have his dignity. Maybe he should just have a cocktail or something.

Or, he could just sit here and stare at the wall all day. That seemed like fun.

The door slid open an indeterminate amount of time later.

"Hello Falco."

Lombardi stopped in his tracks. Fox hadn't even turned his head to the door.

"You look kinda crappy, Fox. Aren't you even going to take a shower?"

"Huh?" Fox looked down and realized he was still wearing the flight suit from the crash. He was covered in dirt, bruises, and scabs from healing cuts. He really was a mess. Somehow that struck him as funny, and he chuckled, a dark and hollow sound in the dimly lit quarters.

"Eh... I'll get cleaned up when I get dropped off wherever Peppy wants to put me."

"Dropped off?" Falco asked with a hint of real concern. He closed the door and stepped further inside.

"Dropped off?" he repeated. "What do you mean dropped off? You think we're just gonna forget about everything you did and dump you, Fox? Do you seriously think Peppy would do that to you?"

"Why not?" Fox said, juggling the lone beer can. "I don't have anything else to do around here." He tossed the can at Falco. "Go grab something good, will ya?"

"Sure," Falco replied, and was in the kitchen for barely a minute before he came back with two fizzy, dark brown bottles.

"Finest buzz you'll find in Lylat," he declared. Fox didn't seem to mind that description and took an offered bottle. He took a swift swig after popping off the cap and winced.

"Ouch, Falco... they serve this in the military now?"

"Only to the important people," the avian said with a smug spread of his wings, gulping down a mouthful and whooping.

"No matter things keep going to hell when Corneria fights by itself," Fox mused. "Makes me glad I'm not going back."

There was the sudden sound of Falco almost spitting out another gulp. Fox stared in silence as Falco struggled to swallow.

"Not... not going back?" Falco exclaimed when he was finished, incredulous. Fox eyed him with a somewhat venomous gaze, his ears folding back onto his head. His stare seemed to be questioning Falco's intelligence and his lineage all at once.

"Didn't you hear me back on the shuttle, Falco? I'm done with being a celebrity. Corneria... all of Lylat... they have new heroes to look out for."

Silence.

"I mean there has to be _somebody_ that they're talking about besides us, right?" Fox asked, sounding a little desperate as he leaned towards Falco. "What about that Bowman guy? Andross' own damn grandson. Why the hell did we even let him on our team? I _hate_ Andross," Fox reminded himself. It was an interesting thought, now that time had removed him from any semblance of camaraderie with the guy. He must have been a bad egg. Eventually he'd show his true colors. Andross never _really _died. Sometimes Fox even had nightmares, ones he hadn't had in years.

He turned back to Falco.

"Well? What about him?"

Falco shook his head.

"Lucy? Wasn't she gonna be some famous astrophysicist after the Anglars were finished?"

Another shake. Fox seemed to get a wild, earnest look in his eyes and leaned further forward.

"Slippy? Bill? Wolf? You?"

Falco sighed and took another long drink.

"People are still asking where you went, man."

"Well _damn it, Falco!"_ Fox snapped, tossing the drink against the wall where it shattered loudly, disrupting the image of the peaceful starscape. McCloud stood up and began pacing. Falco simply sat and watched the tirade, occasionally taking sips from his bottle.

"Do these people even have lives? Huh? I left! I was gone! I was off seeing everything that I cared about fly off into the void without even a goodbye! What right do these people have to expect me to just waltz back in and be their hero all over again? How many years of my life did I give turning down some _very lucrative opportunities_ to save somebody else's tail? How long's it been since Andross? Twelve, thirteen years?"

"Fourteen, counting after you left."

"Fourteen years, Falco! I could have spaced that _hellspawn_ Dash, but last I heard from him he was off going to be Venom's best thing since sliced bread! Why? Because _I _chose to come back and fight the Anglars. _I _decided to get off my butt, alone, while Lylat was against the wall. I'm the one who crawled around in dirt and sand and mud for _weeks _on Sauria to put Andross down after that monster came back from the freaking _dead! _I put us back together again and again and again, all to help keep this place together! And what do I have to show for it?"

He tugged on his flight suit.

"A piece of crap suit, a dead ship, an Arwing that's floating around in the center of the galaxy for all I know, and the _one damn person _who could make it all right is _gone_ because I was trying to be everybody's hero!"

He threw his arms in the air and kicked the chair, making the recliner function activate spontaneously. He grabbed his head in his hands and squeezed, bending over until his heads were between his knees, and then rising up again, taking a deep, solemn breath.

"I'm done, Falco," he said with a terrible sort of finality. "I'm going to retire. I'm done with flying, with fighting, with being the last line of defense. Let them stand on their own two feet. I gave them everything. To hell with their fawning... with their begging. Peppy's got a good head on his shoulders. I mean, heck... it's been over a year since I left. If the place is still sane, he must be doing something right."

Falco didn't say anything for a while. He and Fox stared off into space, lost in their own thoughts. Fox was acting weird, that much was certain. His announcement to retire was even understandable given the circumstances. Most people didn't know it, but Falco was a pretty easy-going guy. He could take a lot of things in life, and Fox's outburst was not too surprising. He could handle it. He had come for Fox, not to bring back Lylat's hero. He had come as a friend, not some ambassador calling Fox out for one last hurrah. But still...

He rubbed his chin with his wing.

"Uh... Peppy might want you to do a couple things first. Small things, you know. There won't even be cameras."

"Puh," Fox said, eyes half closed, swaying slightly as he stared at the far wall with such intensity he seemed to be looking for a flea in a field. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean... you have to at least tell people you're back. Maybe even... maybe even meet with Dash again. Pass the torch to the Systems Corps. I hate to say it, man, this sounds weird comin' from me, I know, but..."

He raised his bottle in a gesture of appeal.

"You can't just run off and expect to cut your ties so easy. S'why I kept comin' back, I knew you guys still needed me. You gotta tell them they're ready before you pass on the reins. And I'll be there, Fox. I promise, this time."

He smiled a genuine smile.

"You keep flying and keep your formation tight..."

Fox waited a moment before finishing the old Academy day adage.

"And you always remember to turn out the light. To hell with you, Falco," he said, trying to sound angry and not succeeding. "You've really gone soft."

"Ahh... grab another couple of these buzzers and we'll see how soft I am, Fox! Besides, with all the stuff that's been going down? You're probably gonna want to be drunk when you hear it."

And so, for a few hours at least, Fox could forget his grief, and lose himself in the timeless pleasure of a friend to talk to, and a drink so stiff he'd never be able to remember a word he said when he woke up.

--

Peppy Hare knew that not everybody was going to be happy, especially Fox McCloud. But as much as he wanted to just see the guy again, to just look at his face, he knew that there was business to take care of.

Fox's return had been a surprise to him as much as anyone else. The last year had been crazy for all of Lylat, starting with Krystal's disappearance. Nobody had been expecting it, nobody had wanted it. It had come out of nowhere. The defeat of the Anglars three years prior had still been fresh on everyone's mind, and with Krystal back on the team the assumption that she and Fox would finally live the good life was shared by virtually the entire population of Lylat (all save Panther, who had been apoplectic that Krystal had once again gone back to McCloud). But then came the strange times. Krystal and Fox both had begun withdrawing from the public eye, and even from the team. But each had done so in their own way, and it was not in order to be closer to one another.

Krystal had simply begun to focus on one thing or another. She slowly seemed to forget that she was with the others. She had buried herself in research, in books, in training. She had become more distant, almost indifferent, to Fox and the rest of the crew. She was still cordial, she still helped out around the ship, and had even gone with them on the few jobs they had been able to scrounge together in the wake of the war. But she had seemed to see her staff and the honing of her telepathic abilities as more important than anything else, leaving poor Fox out in the cold. McCloud had suffered in silence. He was still nominally the leader of the team, but more and more he had become depressed and introverted, determined to stick by Krystal's side, even as their relationship deteriorated. Even Peppy had seen it when he visited them. The poor guy had barely even tried to hold on to her, thinking that it was just a phase in their rocky relationship. He had rebuffed most questions about his welfare, leaving the others distressed and confused, and worried. Star Fox broke up again soon after the troubles started, and Krystal and Fox simply drifted out of the mainstream.

Then they had disappeared entirely. Krystal was without preamble. One day, Fox staggered into Falco's apartment, drunk and disorderly as the military called it. He babbled about how Krystal made him swear not to follow him and left without even saying goodbye. He had been broken up for weeks, but slowly built his strength up enough where he decided to follow the first lead he came across and find her again, eventually leaving the Lylat system entirely for parts unknown, making everyone wonder if he was looking for death out in the great void. Lylat had no major colonies besides a couple of research outposts, and nobody had known where Fox had been so determined to go. Peppy had tried to stop it. He had tried consoling the boy (for Peppy, though never admitting it, saw Fox as a son), cajoling him, forcing him to remain and build another life. But Fox would have none of it.

At last, Fox was able to run off without anyone knowing. For a whole week, the team members left behind had panicked. And then Slippy came forward. Fox had come to him, asked for supplies and money to get out of the system and hopefully sustain him in the big dark unknown, and made him promise not to tell a soul.

Slippy, with tears in his eyes, had said Fox didn't want Falco to know because he knew he'd think it cowardly. And he hadn't wanted Peppy to know because the hare would have been ashamed of him.

Peppy shook his head, drooping ears wagging about. Ashamed? As if! The mere thought that Fox could do anything to shame him was reprehensible. He must have been more broken up than any of them could have imagined.

And now, standing in front of a cold, impassive airlock in the belly of the command carrier _Macbeth's Revenge _thirteen months after Fox's disappearance, he was waiting for the sight of a man he still sometimes saw as the young, dashing, heroic boy he had seen at the start of the Lylat Wars. Those were the good old days, Peppy mused, back when the enemy was clear and the conflicts easier to fight. When Andross was around, all it took was good aim and good flying. So pure and honest a war that had been, as odd as it was to say so. They were good and noble, Andross monstrous and megalomaniacal. Nothing a good blaster couldn't handle.

But conflicts of the heart? Those had to be wrestled with in ways only the individual fighting knew how. It had nearly torn Fox away from him, and as the airlock hissed and began to open, and the honor guard stood to attention, Peppy swore that he would do all in his power to make sure Fox would get all the help he needed.

As the airlock clanked and slid to one side, his old eyes widened. He had been expecting Fox, but the haggard, slumped figure he saw lurch through the opening was a far cry from the bright eyed hero he remembered.

"You look terrible," he blurted out with fatherly concern.

"I know," Fox replied, lackluster. Falco was right behind him, placing a paw on the vulpine's shoulder.

"He got more drunk than an infantryman on shore leave," he confided. Peppy scowled at Lombardi and went to Fox, without regard for the other soldiers watching. He put his hands on Fox's shoulders and made him stand up straight.

"Fox," he breathed. "I can hardly believe my eyes. You know a couple times I thought you'd never come back..."

"It probably would've been better if I didn't." Peppy noticed a slight slur in his voice.

"Don't say things like that," the general replied quickly. "You... I'm glad you're back, Fox. We have a lot to talk about."

"I'm sure."

"But you need rest, first. Falco, he..." Peppy stepped back and finally saw Fox's real condition. His clothes were filthy and his fur mussed.

"Have you even taken a shower?"

"Not in the last couple days, no."

Peppy swore and glanced over his shoulder at the other soldiers in attendance. There was no judgment in their eyes, but Peppy knew he had to keep up some semblance of dignity for the return of Lylat's savior.

"Fox, please, they're _watching _you. Falco, I thought you said he'd be prepared!"

"I tried!" Lombardi answered haplessly. "He didn't want to do anything. He said he didn't want anything to do with a spaceship." Peppy blinked and stared and sputtered, flabbergasted at the revelation.

"Fox... what happened to you?"

The former hero shrugged.

"Lots of stuff." He looked around at the others. "I wish this was a little more private."

Peppy cleared his throat and gestured for Fox to follow him. "Of... of course, of course. Well, if you're um... _tired _of spaceships, let's get you on the ground. There's a private shuttle waiting to take you down."

"Down where?"

"Corneria, Fox! You're back! You're home." Peppy took him by the arm when Fox didn't do anything and hustled him past the others, leaving them confused. They started to mill around, but that was fine with Peppy, who only called his aide over.

"Tell the crew they did a fine job and they have the rest of the day off," he barked at the canine, who whipped out a datapad and started scribbling orders.

"Nobody disturbs Fox. Nobody. I want guards, actual soldiers, down at the landing pad. Nobody gets near him, no press, no nothing. Hell, you have permission to shoot anyone with a camera! I want this to go quick and clean."

"Corneria's nice this time of year," Fox muttered to himself. Falco suddenly came up next to him.

"Thought he'd mellowed out by now," he confided to Peppy, who hurried them both down a long corridor towards the hanger.

"Anyone mellows out with the crap you had him drink. I can barely believe we serve it in the military," he growled, glad they were finally somewhat alone. Falco shrugged indifferently.

"Hey pops, he needed it. Don't blame me!"

"S'okay, Peppy," Fox blurted out. "Falco told me what's been going on."

They all stopped like they had collided with a brick wall. Peppy's eyes darted back and forth nervously.

"I... I'm sorry Fox," he said as quickly as he could. "But things didn't quiet down after you left. There are... there are things we still need to take care of, and... and we might need you, Fox. Lylat might need you. The whole system is busy. I've been busy. I'll do what I can, but..." He left the rest of his sentence hang. Fox didn't seem perturbed.

"I know." Peppy was surprised by the lack of anger or enthusiasm.

"You... you do?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I left you guys with a lot of crap to deal with. But I don't want to think about it. I just wanna breathe air that hasn't been recycled. And that shower sounds... heavenly."

Peppy stared long and hard at Fox. He did indeed look terrible. Dirty, grubby, tired, worn down, and somewhat smelly. But in that instant, the general of Lylat found that he didn't care. Ten months of duty, responsibility, being kept away from Lucy, wrangling with the politics of the Systems Corps, and that whole business with Dash. It didn't matter anymore. Fox was back, he was here, and he needed them.

They could talk later.

"Whatever you need, my boy."


	3. Motives

The large apartment was furnished in such a way that Fox found himself suddenly realizing how good he had it here in Lylat.

For starters, it overlooked a pristine bay patrolled by no ships except a couple gunboats from the Cornerian Navy. The apartment building, which really was more like a big house suited specifically for Fox and his needs, was situated on a hillside that was conspicuously devoid of any kind of life except Fox and the hidden soldiers Peppy had posted to keep the media out of the area. Surrounded by green trees and wild flowers, with only a single road leading up to it, the pilot wondered for a brief moment if they had thrown the place together just for this occasion. The thought of a giant pre-fabricated house springing up on demand made Fox chuckle, and he found that the sound was foreign to him.

He stood on the front porch, craning his neck up to get a good look at the place, and he only confirmed his earlier suspicions that this was somehow tailor made for him. It was constructed in a retro style of architecture that had been popular during Fox's time, for one thing. For another, it was set in this particularly beautiful and convenient location, near enough to civilization that he could be fetched on demand, but far enough away that he didn't need to worry about anyone but himself. Fox had no doubt that this was likely one of the summer homes he had purchased after the Lylat Wars and just left to rust. But somebody had kept it up beautifully. The walls were freshly painted, the door didn't squeak when he opened it, and the lawn was free of weeds.

Fox turned back to the limo driver who had brought him here and waved him off. The old canine nodded sagely and pulled out, heading back to Corneria City in the distance.

Then he stepped inside.

It was everything a dream home could be: spacious, clean, brightly lit, and that new house smell that Fox knew he had missed the most out of everything else. The living room had an extra large television. The kitchen had an island and a refrigerator with everything in it, including that ridiculously alcoholic garbage he had drunk with Falco. It had a completed basement with yet another television and an old game system. It was completed with a giant couch and a mini-bar and all the kinds of things Fox would have enjoyed when he was still fresh off his victory over Andross. Fox suddenly realized that he was looking at a little picture from his past.

This place was somewhere he would have wanted to live. To enjoy the rest of his life in. It was a dream from the good old days. Staring at the lonely video game console, Fox leaned on the wall, dropped his bag, and imagined himself sitting on the couch, fifteen years younger. Slippy and Falco were there too, and they were laughing, not a care in the world, while Peppy looked on from the mini-bar, shaking his head as he went over their finances. X-Racers. They'd definitely be playing X-Racers. Falco and Fox would compete for the high score while Slippy fumbled with the controls. Then they'd eat something ordered out and reminisce over stories, recounting the final battle in the bowels of Venom.

Fox smiled.

It was a heavenly image. No families to worry about, no war to threaten, always some pirate band to go stomp on for extra cash, and the thrill of being a hero was still fresh in his mind. No crowds always hammering at his door, begging just to see him. There were just him and his friends and the confines of the _Great Fox. _Those eight years after Andross had been the best of his life.

Then it had all started coming apart. Fox quickly tore himself away from the visions and memories before they could overwhelm him again, but the contrast was too great to ignore. This was a place a different Fox belonged to, from a different time. The Fox standing in this dream home now couldn't see how he was going to just laze around and play video games until his thumbs were raw, or go swimming in the bay, showing off his toned body to all the ogling females. He couldn't see how he was going to have fun sleeping on a huge bed by himself, when there should have been someone else sharing it. He couldn't make himself jump in the sleek car waiting in the garage and go speeding down the highway.

Deep down, he knew none of it would make him happy or fulfill him. He knew what he was really missing, and he'd never get it back. There was an itch deep inside, a scratching, gnawing impulse that made him want to get out and move and do something, when all he could do was thrash around in this little slice of paradise.

So, Fox did what many people do in his situation. He decided to do all of that stuff anyway and see how it went.

But first came the shower. As he thought it would, the shower was state of the art, with all kinds of options included. There was a jacuzzi in one corner of the bathroom, which he ignored. He didn't want to relax, he just wanted to get clean. He chose the most mundane fountain option and just let the water run over his fur. He made it a little colder than usual, wanting to stay awake. It felt wonderful. It was then Fox noticed the mirror on the inside of the shower. For the first time in weeks, he actually saw himself. Dirty, tired, somewhat red-eyed from lack of sleep, and now sopping wet.

"I really do look terrible," he said, and decided to correct that. The shampoo was some sort of clinically approved junk, so he tossed it only liberally, and had fun making mustaches and beards out of the foam, smirking at himself in the mirror. Soap beards were such a childish thing to do, but it felt great to do it, because he knew nobody was watching. He stepped out of the shower in nothing but a towel and went to stand on the balcony overlooking the bay, leaning on the railing, letting the wind rustle his fur dry. He loved the feel of being clean. It, like soap beards, was such a simple, homey thing to enjoy. A lot of people took being clean for granted.

Fox remembered the days spent on Sauria, where the only way to keep himself clean was to jump into a spring or a river and scrub vigorously. Otherwise, he was hacking his way through foliage, tramping through mud, facing freezing rain on top of Krazoa Palace, getting guts and blood all over him from the Sharpclaws he had bested, pushing through punishing snow storms and searing volcanoes, getting his fur singed or frozen off from traps. Oh, and avoiding Tricky's barf when he had eaten too many grubtub mushrooms.

What a zany adventure _that _had been. In a way, getting down and dirty had its merits as well. There was just something that had spoken to his deepest instincts when he had been on that planet. It really was a place where magic, or at least an energy as close to magic as one could get, still existed. A place where he had gotten in touch with something primal with nothing but a stick and a little sidekick as his allies, facing off with a wild place of terrible monsters and evil generals. An honest adventure, like the first war with Andross.

Fox tried not to remember that was the first time he had met Krystal. He had really written his own fairy tale down there, a primitive knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress. The way they had looked at each other when the prison finally broke, and he was pulling her up from certain death...

_No, Fox,_ he told himself. _No more remembering. Stop there, don't go farther. It just gets painful after that._

He liked the quietness of this place the most. Peppy had probably gone to extra lengths to lock it all down. No matter where Fox looked, his old instincts would tell him there was some hidden camera in the bushes, watching for intruders. Glints in the sky spoke of constant patrols, and every so often Fox would catch a glimpse of some unknown military vehicle in the distance. But he didn't feel imprisoned, because he knew Peppy. The old goat was just overreacting as usual. Fox appreciated it nonetheless.

First of all, he enjoyed the quiet in the bay. Down by the shore, a motorboat had been stashed away in a little covered dock. Right next to it was parked a big yacht, the kind he remembered movie celebrities used whenever they wanted to "get away from it all" in absolute splendor.

Fox stopped short when he saw it, crossed his arms, and shook his head.

"I really _am _a celebrity," he said to himself. He turned away from the yacht and went back into the covered dock. He found an old rowboat hanging on the wall, complete with oars. As if to defy the fact that he was supposed to be popular and famous and take the biggest, most expensive things, Fox decided to take the rowboat out for a spin.

"Just for the hell of it," he told himself as he pried it off the wall and dumped it into the water. He paused, suddenly, then actually took the time to run back up to the house and grab a fishing pole, then ran back down. He collected a wide hat and began rowing, simply loving the feel of exerting his muscles like this. The water was calm and the wind wasn't too bad. The patrol boats kept their distance. Just a fox and his boat and some fish to catch. He liked the evocative image of himself casting off into the water.

About half an hour in, he remembered why he had never liked fishing. It was probably the most mind-numbingly boring thing in the entire system to do!

Fox got out the motorboat after realizing that.

--

Four days passed where Fox was unmolested. Peppy and Falco didn't visit, neither did the paparazzi. Fox would have shot them if they came by.

But those four days were wonderful, even if they hadn't made Fox want to live life to the fullest again. He had gotten to relax, to do whatever he wanted to do and not have anyone tell him otherwise. No call to arms. No rush down to the starport and getting the _Great Fox _ready for take-off. Just some simple living. Well, simple insofar as he didn't do anything important. This was about as lavish as he would allow himself. It wasn't a bad way to retire, really, once Peppy had forced him through whatever he needed to do.

But soon, it came to an end. Fox saw the little convoy approaching from afar and went inside to get ready. Peppy was coming as a general. Tired as Fox was, he wanted to greet him with at least a little bit of dignity. Peppy deserved that. He'd see Fox as he used to be.

He got out his old flight suit with the green pants and white shirt which somehow still fit him. He had thrown them into the wash and neatly laid them out on a chair in his bedroom, and now they were fitted over his broad chest and healthy shoulders. Even after all he'd been through, he still cleaned up nicely.

Peppy found him standing in the hall in front of the door the moment he came in.

"Fox," he said quietly, closing the door behind him and leaving his entourage behind.

"Let's talk."

--

"You know about Dash Bowman and his election to Prime Minister of Venom. Well, Fox, after the Anglar war a few years back, Dash set about trying to rebuild his home planet, make it a place people would want to visit. His goal was a complete transformation of the entire planet... and he's very nearly accomplished it. Venom's ecosystem is better than it ever was under Andross. Dash has ousted or executed the military radicals who want to return to imperial ambition. He started rebuilding the environment. Toxicity has returned to tolerable levels, importation of plants and animals is going well. People who live there are thinking that their lives can be normal again. Things are _changing_ all over the planet, and people love Dash for it."

"What's this got to do with me?" Fox replied shortly. The two of them were walking along a forest path that led down the hill to the bay, behind the house. Peppy, in his impeccable red uniform made famous by Pepper, seemed entirely out of place. His fur was almost completely white, his wrinkles obvious all over his face, and his fighting spirit replaced by stoic discipline. He was the new old General, and Fox was irked by that.

"The thing is, Fox, he's caught wind of your return. All of Lylat has. And he wants to see you."

Fox stopped dead short.

"See me?" he asked in a low voice. "See me, does he? What for? To thank him for giving him everything? When I could have just shot the bastard the moment I saw him? I was nice enough when I let him fight with us. When I told him that he had to do what he had to do."

He leaned closer to Peppy, who remained unintimidated.

"You hear me, Peppy? I was nice to him once already. I put him where he is. I'm the one who let Lylat have all that it does. And I'm the one who lost everything in the process. I am _not _obligated to go and shake his hand and cut a giant ribbon or whatever the hell he wants me to do."

"I know, Fox," Peppy said levelly. "But there's more to it than just being nice. As Falco told you, I headed a re-organization of the defense forces in this system. They're now under the single banner of the Systems Corps, and I head it all. The Cornerian Alliance has every planet under its reach... except Venom. Dash wants to be part of it. Venom is doing well, but it'll never get off the ground without our support. And people have hope for the future now, Fox! They _want _to see Venom restored to the Lylat system."

"Do _you _want it back?" Fox asked, not hiding the accusation. Peppy straightened up and breathed deep.

"Off the record... no," he said in a quiet, bitter voice. "Frankly I don't care about Venom. I wouldn't care if it suddenly vanished into thin air, long as nobody died with it. Too many memories."

"Too many memories," Fox agreed.

"But I _do _care about Lylat. I care about seeing it happy and prosperous again, like it was when your father was still alive. And if this is what it takes, I'm going to see it through."

He led Fox to a clearing and pointed up at the sky.

"The Orbital Gate has been renamed Alliance Station. It's had a lot added to it, and it's now the symbol of Lylat's new unity. It's there we're going to meet Dash and see Venom given a place in the Cornerian Alliance. Everyone's going to be there, Fox. You _have _to show up."

"Have to? Strong language. I thought I made it clear I didn't have to do anything," Fox said, feeling his temper spike. Peppy sighed heavily and let his shoulders droop.

"I didn't mean it like that, Fox. I'm saying that if you do show up, it'll go all the smoother. People will love it all the more. It'll let them know their hope is real and validated, that their legend... their _hero..._ is willing to help send them off into the future."

Fox shook his head and went off a ways, back to the path.

"If I'm the one who laid the path to the future, Peppy... why do I _feel _as old as you _look?"_

Peppy willed himself not to take offense to that.

"It's war, Fox," he answered, and Fox nodded his head in assent. That was the right answer.

"It's war," Peppy repeated. "It does that to you. When you fight, you feel like it's the only thing keeping you together, even when it pushes you to the brink. It consumes you... becomes your life, no matter how short or long it is. Changes you. Makes you think about the world in a different way. You and I, Falco, Slippy... we grew up with the people we'll be seeing on Alliance Station, Fox. But we'll always be a world apart because of what we went through."

He stepped up behind Fox and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know what you're thinking, Fox. They'll never understand. They'll never be able to really know what they're asking of you. When..."

Peppy felt his eyes suddenly moisten.

"When your father... when he passed away, I felt lost. When I... when I picked you up and held you that night, I wondered what I was going to do, and realized I didn't have the damndest idea. Not the faintest clue. But you know something, Fox? We pulled through anyway. You became someone people wanted to fight for. You showed the strength that I should have had. You made Star Fox. You blasted Andross into oblivion _twice. _I saw you grow, Fox, during those days. I saw the strength your father gave you. You were fighting for him, Fox. Don't deny it. You were fighting for his memory and his dreams. That included giving Lylat peace."

He moved around to Fox's front and faced him. Fox had tears streaming down his cheeks, even though he didn't say anything, or move, or blink.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Fox didn't have an answer. His fists shook as he looked for a way to deny it, to say that he wasn't a hero, not a fighter, just some damn fool who jumped in a ship and was good at shooting in the right direction. But Peppy's expression brooked no argument.

"I don't know what you want to fight for now," Peppy said gently. "I _think_ I know what James would say. But only you know for sure. So think for yourself, Fox. That's all I want you to do. Remember what you fought for, and decide if it's still worth it. If you really want your legend... James' legacy... to just fade away."

And Peppy left him.

--

"Do you think he'll do it?" Falco asked as Peppy returned to the convoy. The hare stood still and looked back to the woods.

"He'll do what he thinks he has to do. Nothing else matters."


	4. First Movement

A/N: Ahhh! I can't believe I've neglected this story for so long! I hope I still have readers!

* * *

The limousine pulled up to Cornerian Headquarters with the leisurely purr of a big cat at rest. It did not reflect the buzzing activity surrounding it or its occupants. All around the sleek black vehicle, citizens and important dignitaries were milling about, trying to catch a glimpse of those inside, or trying to find their way to designated waiting points while trying to not collide with frustratingly static and motionless reporters, who clogged most of the walkway leading up to the HQ's entrance. All of them were asking the wrong questions and postulating the wrong answers.

Falco knew they were wrong. They had misrepresented him several times in his life, mistaking his fast living for loose morals and a lack of brains. He stared at the crowds with the easy-going confidence that being an ace pilot gave him, and sniffed a little contemptuously. He didn't like reporters. Almost everyone who saw him would jam a microphone into his face, which he would promptly ignore, and look past the gauntlet of cameras to the line of soldiers waiting at the door.

A lot of these guys would just be standing here all day and never see anything more interesting than ships taking off and landing. The conference up in Alliance Station (Falco still thought it was a dumb name) had been the talk of the town for the past several weeks, and now that it was here, Corneria was seething with anticipation. They wanted to know everything that was happening. All the cameras would bring ordinary citizens from their living rooms to high orbit. And yet, there were so many people who were just little cogs in the machine, never able to do anything except what they were told.

Falco gave the stoic soldiers a nod as he went by, wondering if any of them felt jealous or respectful. Given the way they melted apart just to let him pass, and how some of them glanced at him as he went by, it was probably a little bit of both. This was supposed to be a momentous day, after all, and they'd spend it all just standing around out here in the hot sun.

Falco found no respite from the hubbub inside the HQ. People were rushing back and forth, messages being sent here and there, officers in uniform talking about this and that. Guards stood attentive at their posts through all the hubbub. All the cogs were spinning in the right places.

The lombard didn't know what to make of all this. He had fought beside Fox during the Lylat Wars, and even before then the mutual respect had come to the point where he would die for the fox. Somehow though, facing down a Venomian fleet with nothing but half an Arwing and a single smart bomb seemed preferable to taking his place on Alliance Station. There was a whole planetary system out there that needed looking after, and here he was walking a red carpet. Normally he wouldn't mind. But none of these cameras were here to see _him, _they were here to see Dash. The avian found his thoughts on Andross' grandson congruous with Fox's. He was a wild card, and not the likeable kind that Falco was. He was a true unknown. Nobody knew what he'd turn out to be now that he was the new prime minister of Lylat's nemesis worl.

Venom had a lot of bad memories.

Nobody seemed interested in pointing him the right way, which gave him time for all this introspection. He wasn't in command after all, he was just one of the pretty faces for the cameras. At last, Falco decided to barge into the office of the only guy here he really knew would say something worthwhile: General Peppy Hare.

He was at his desk, his venerable white fur sticking out from a cluster of younger, loud voiced aides. He was pointing at papers and signing datapads, and only glanced at Falco as he entered. He did a double take, shooed the others out while completely ignoring their indignant protests, and shut the door.

Immediately he threw off his hat and sighed.

"Falco. Thank goodness! I was getting overwhelmed in here. We're still making last minute preparations, but you and I need to be gone in an hour for the shuttle. Lucy should be coming back soon, I hope she makes it through that wall of reporters..."

"Lucy?" Falco repeated incredulously. "I thought you said she was staying on Fichina with her teaching job."

"Yes, well, as you know, she's becoming a rising star in her field. And she wanted to come, and, well, with me so busy, I couldn't handle just saying no! She would have been crushed if she missed this."

Falco only grunted, uncommitted to a real answer. Peppy returned to his desk.

"Well anyway, like I said, I have to let those people back in here soon. Still so many things to do, still the speeches to rehearse, the papers to sign... why do we even still _use _paper?"

Falco shrugged, and Peppy went on, fuming, waving his arms and trying to settle down enough to write down proper orders.

"I don't know how Pepper managed it all. He's going to be there too of course, but... well, he's really starting to get up there in age. Poor man is in a grav-chair almost all the time, almost deaf in one ear. But he's still lucid. Heh, more lucid than I will be when I get like him. All this commanding is running me ragged."

Falco tried to imagine the duty-minded fighting hare in a floating grav-chair, ears drooped and arms pleasantly in his lap, doing nothing but being old and smacking his gums at the young whippersnappers. It didn't work. Not in the slightest. Falco would always see Peppy as the irascible, energetic man he had been in the Lylat Wars. It seemed a lifetime ago now.

At last, he posed the question he'd wanted to ask.

"Is Fox coming?"

Peppy jerked as if awoken from a deep sleep. His eyes turned up to meet Falco's.

"I don't know," he said. "I haven't heard from him ever since we visited him. What about you?"

"I went back to his place the day after we went," Falco admitted. "He wasn't even there. Didn't even pack! I assumed he was out somewhere, but…"

Peppy seemed crestfallen. "Well, there's nothing to do about it. We can't force him into anything he doesn't want. But you can quote me on this, Falco. Fox knows what his duty is. The man has been through too much to just sit down and take the hits! I _know _he'll do the right thing. He'll come. He has to come."

"Well if he does show up, he's gonna shoot somebody if the reporters are as annoying as they are out there!" Falco warned. "And I know the media, Pep. Buncha leeches. Woulda blasted 'em awhile ago if I could be famous without 'em. And you know Fox, he gets stage fright. Hell, Peppy, half the time he got up in front of cameras we had to write out lines for him. He was calm getting those awards after we killed Andross, but backstage he was a wreck."

"He'll be here," Peppy suddenly insisted, though he probably just felt like being contrary. He walked forward and clapped a hand to Falco's shoulder. "He knows how important this is. Come on, it's about time we left too."

There wasn't a lot left to do except get to the shuttle. The starport was suspiciously devoid of commoners. Peppy explained that all civilian traffic had been cleared out of the area to make way for the momentous event; handling air traffic would be difficult enough without tourists, frequent flyers, and space jockeys making a mess of things. Falco finally did notice that the skies were empty of civilian aircraft and even the giant, conspicuous trade freighters that were always going to and fro. Skycars were completely absent from the sky today. Everyone must have been walking instead, explaining the pressing crowds that were swarming through the streets.

"So what exactly are we gonna be doin' up there?" Falco asked Peppy.

"The usual," the hare explained. "You know... keep your beak shut and let me do all the talking. There's a lot of suits up there that won't know what to make of you. You haven't exactly been the best at keeping a low profile."

Falco did his best to smile around his beak, shaking his head and ruffling his feathers. The avian had made the most out of being a thrice-hailed hero of the Lylat system, getting into all the newspapers and all the talk shows, and even, to Katt's chagrin, helping maintain the running rumor that they were still an item. He enjoyed adoration, not stuffy little tea parties like this would undoubtedly be.

"Hey, old man, if you can't live it up a little, what's the point of being famous?"

"Fox could tell you that."

Falco huffed, feeling a little offended at the snippy tone in the hare's voice.

"Last time I checked, Fox wasn't doing a lot of talking," he said in a dark voice. Peppy said nothing after that.

They entered the hanger where their ship was still waiting for clearance. The hanger itself was built underground to save space and not leave a whole bunch of spaceships just waiting around for atmospheric re-entry, which would have become an eyesore. Their ship was an awkward, bulbous craft with long, stubby wings meant only to burst through the upper atmosphere and plop into Alliance Station, with a brutal Impact Drive Assembly that was a holdover from the days when G-diffusers were still in their experimental stages. It was an antique, but Peppy claimed it was all they could get on 'short notice.'

"You sure it isn't just because we're trying to impress all the other dignitaries with smooth rides and leave us the hand-me-downs that we're flying this piece of crap?" Falco asked.

Peppy hadn't said anything, but his ears had gone suspiciously erect.

It was going to be a rough trip up to the station in that thing, but once they cleared the atmosphere it would be fine. Falco wondered what Slippy would have to say about such an old and clumsy system, and he only now realized that he hadn't seen Slippy for some months. Perhaps he had been too busy enjoying the blessed silence his grating, high-pitched voice was no longer ruining.

"So where's the toad?"

"He's still on Aquas, last I heard."

"I thought he was coming!"

"Amanda's expecting again. You know how he gets when she's pregnant."

Falco nodded sagely. For the past few years since the Anglar invasion, Amanda and Slippy had been having armies of children on a fairly regular basis, all well provided for by the generous stipends Slippy's miracle working earned from the aerospace corporations. Falco had never known Slippy to be able to get busy so quick and so often, and the thought of the once immature and cowardly mechanic being a love machine made him want to smirk and gag in horror at the same time.

_Lucky little google-eyed freak,_ he thought. Sometimes, just sometimes, he found himself envying that green genius, the only one of the Star Fox team who had been able to find something resembling a normal life. Falco's life was anything but normal, consisting of many ups and downs and a rather dull life in the Systems Corps, where the majority of excitement came from dodging boring tasks and staying hidden in the bureaucracy. Falco wondered how he himself would look as a father, and decided that perhaps the Lylat system was better off without a flock of little ace Lombardis running around tearing things up. He had to give the competition a little bit of leeway, after all.

There wasn't any fanfare waiting for them to enter the shuttle, just a few guards and officers waiting around for the VIPs. As Falco and Peppy approached, a middle-aged German Shepherd with a well pressed and extremely clean uniform came up to them, the echo of his footsteps the only noise in the hanger aside from the hissing of exhaust and machine hydraulics.

"Welcome General," the Shepherd said. "Your ship's ready for take-off whenever you are."

"Excellent work, Palmer," Peppy said with a nod. "How's the situation looking up there?"

"Controlled chaos, General. The dignitaries are all up and running, getting set for the big meeting. They're all waiting on you. Pepper's already gone up. It looks like the damn Red Roller movie awards, sir."

"Watch your language, son. What about Dash?"

There was a jerk in the Shepherd's movements. _That name _was becoming more ominous with each passing day to those who did not share in the enthusiasm surrounding Venom's rise to power and position, and Palmer was certainly old enough to remember with clarity the destruction of Andross' conquests.

"He's already up there, arrived about twelve hours ago" he said quietly. "Smiling for all the cameras and making friends. People are giving him a wide berth until the speech."

"Good," Peppy said simply. "Then it'll be easier to keep an eye on him. Do we have any pertinent security intel?"

"Nothing," Palmer noted. "Which makes me nervous. Something this big, sir? It won't stay quiet for long."

"Just do your job," Peppy said simply, and turned to the other officers around them. Most of them were only a little younger than he was, but there were many fresh faces as well. People who venerated Peppy as a living legend, who hadn't_ really _known what the Lylat War had been like. People who had grown up in the face of the smaller, subsequent wars, who believed that only outside threats like the Aparoids were a true danger. Lylat was united to them, looking forward to a glorious future where everyone lived peaceably, and terrifying aliens in the dark were ready to pounce on them and test their camaraderie. Threats from within didn't exist to them. Politics were so simple in the face of the new Alliance and the uniting power of the Systems Corps. Peppy envied them something fierce.

"All of you, just do your jobs," he repeated. "Be ready, not paranoid. Be alert, not hysterical. This is just another day at the office. As long as you keep a straight face for the cameras, we'll get through this just fine."

They all straightened their backs, taking inspiration and encouragement from his words. Peppy had not lost his steadying, calming presence. Falco still had to admire him, even now. In the years that Star Fox had been together, he had always been their anchor, the link to the original Star Fox under James, a beacon that they could look to in times of trouble. Strong, wise, and kind. A father for the ones they had lost, or never known.

"Well let's not all stand around like school kids at a dance!" the avian said, rustling his feathers. "Let's get moving!"

They started for the ship. As Peppy stepped up to the boarding ramp, he paused when someone called out to him from behind. Another young officer was jogging up to him, out of breath.

"General!" he said, huffing and puffing to the point where he could barely talk. "He... he's here! You gotta wait for him general, he's... whoo! I ran all the way here, sir, my apologies..."

"Stand up straight, soldier," Peppy demanded. "Take some deep breaths and speak plainly."

The feline sucked in another breath, holding up a hand to give him a moment longer. And then it all came out in a rush.

"I don't know where he came from, General! He just showed up out of nowhere on the scanners… he said he has a message to deliver you as soon as possible!"

Peppy sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Unless we're being bombed, young man, I don't think you need to be in such a panic."

"But sir, it's him! It's-"

"Daddy?"

Peppy shoved the young feline out of the way and watched his daughter stride into the hanger, a huge grin on her face.

"Lucy!" Peppy gasped, letting the younger hare throw herself into his arms with an excited squeal. She was dressed in surprisingly casual clothes, but had a crimson gown that glittered with shiny inlays slung over her arm.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said into his ear. "It was so crowded!"

"Don't worry a bit, honey," Peppy said with a grin, holding her at arm's length and looking her over. She had already put on her makeup for the event, though she hardly needed it. In spite of everything, she of all the others had kept her youthful vivacity, and still sometimes seemed like the young, eager girl who had first set out on her own. Intelligence was clear in her shining magenta eyes that matched her pink fur. Giving her cheeks a fond squeeze, he turned back to the officer who had run at him, who was practically jumping from one foot to the other to tell him what he had seen.

"Spit it out, soldier."

"Sir!" the cat saluted. "I don't know how he got in, but he did, and he wanted to give you a message!"

"Who?"

"It's Fox, Dad!" Lucy said, and the grin on her face nearly split her head in two. The cat behind her huffed, perturbed that he hadn't been the one to make the announcement. "It's Fox!" Lucy blurted out again, shaking with excitement to reunite with her old friend and wingmate. "He's come back, just like you said he would! He showed me how to get in here through the back." She surprised the general by giggling like a school girl. Seeing Fox again had made her day."He said the security around here still sucked. But he didn't stick around, he said he had things to do. He said he got a plan together and everything, and for none of you to worry because he'll be there, and he'll show up in style!"

Peppy and Falco gave each other a long look, and then smiled in unison, a feeling of understanding and congratulation passing between them, pride swelling up in their chests. Fox was here, somewhere, and he wasn't going to let them down.

"Showing up in the nick of time, as usual," Lombardi drawled, crossing his arms.

"Whatever he's got planned," said Peppy, "I know it'll be something I don't want to miss. Now, come on, you all, let's get onto the shuttle! I don't want it said by anyone today that age is slowing me down!"

* * *

Major William "Bill" Grey found himself enjoying the sights from above Corneria, even though he was supposed to be on duty. His Starblazer fighter was set at a nice cruising speed, holding orbit around Alliance Station. It was a smooth, streamlined ride that he very much appreciated. The G-Diffuser technology that had once made the Arwing the premier air and space superiority fighter had slowly disseminated throughout the armed forces of the Systems Corps, and become the default method of ensuring Lylat fighters would always have the upper hand. It leveled the playing field, but the majority of the fleet would never have to worry about pirate incursions being a problem again. The Starblazer was now the symbol of Systems Corps technological advancement, a perfect fusion of maneuverability and firepower. It was fast enough to be an interceptor, could carry enough of a payload to act as a strike bomber in a pinch, and had enough shielding and weaponry to go head-to-head with any opposition. The forward swept wings could extend and retract at a single command to maximize stability in space or in atmosphere. To be sure, there were other craft such as the Meteor or the Sentinel that still had their place in the Lylatian navy, but the Starblazer, as a direct descendant of the technology that made the Arwing famous, could wipe the floor with any older generation of fighters, and that was all Imperial remnants and corsairs would be able to field. Though, Bill had his doubts that that newest members of his squadron would be up to snuff. It was even harder to remember that many of his closest friends used to fly the positions the rookies now had, and the new pilots had only taken on pirates and simple raiders, nothing like the Imperial Purge.

The Purge was the unofficial name of the campaign that marked the destruction of the last great Imperial Venom strongholds in Lylat. With the killing of High Admiral Rosker and Generals Streng and Dunnheld, the final remnants of Andross' former army had been rooted out and annihilated. It had been a short, but hellish affair that had sorely tested the resolve of the Systems Corps, being a monumental task for the infant armed force. Peppy knew it had to be done to finally realize peace in Lylat, and was willing to throw all of his tactical know-how and newly acquired resources into the struggle. Though the birth of the Corps had looked wonderful on the news and on paper, Bill had lived through the grim reality. It had required the immediate reorganization of thousands of chains of command, the integration of units that had never fought alongside one another, the melding of several different planetary cultures and levels of technology into an immediate, ad-hoc force that could take the fight to a suicidal, determined enemy. Sensing the end was near, the Imperial remnant came out of hiding and launched blitzkrieg attacks on distant parts of the system, attacking colonies and mining stations since they couldn't handle anything bigger. Their paltry fleet was made of up of grizzled, die-hard veterans and the most vicious pirates and mercenaries money could buy. It was suicide. They had proven the rumors of their existence true to all of Lylat, which meant their destruction was now inevitable. But they didn't care.

Bill had led his squadron straight into the heart of the ramshackle fleet, blowing apart obsolete fighters that fought with grim determination. Two weeks of chasing a fleet that was ready to die cost three thousand four hundred twenty two Lylatian lives, far more than anyone would have wanted. A drop in the bucket compared to the total population of the system, but for the front-line troops that was almost four thousand old faces simply gone, Bill's squadron among them. A suicide fighter had detonated an old Nova bomb directly beneath them as they were making a run on a half-destroyed Imperial carrier still spitting laser fire. Bill survived. Most of his friends didn't. Three died instantly, with only gravestones and their belongings as testament they had ever existed.

One, Thomas Young, an upstanding bull, had his ship sheared in two and survived almost freezing to death in the vacuum of space as his damaged flight suit gave way. He had been stationed groundside since the incident had given him a fear of flying. The other, old sergeant Vance, had been reassigned to a desk job. Bill stayed on with the fleet. He often wondered why, sometimes, but that was always, immediately answered when he saw fresh new faces. He never wanted to see those faces relegated to photos and memories before their time again.

The fact that some of them could be quite easy on the eyes helped, too.

"Red four, tighten up with the formation. We're on parade, remember?" he said into his comm-link. The grizzled, mature voice he spoke with always surprised him. He never lost his southern Papetoon accent, but it was muted now. More of a voice for the masses, and not quite as bright as it had once been.

"Sorry, sir. Just got carried away with the view!" a perky voice answered, the comm system lighting up a hologram that revealed a pretty female spaniel, her helmet slightly too big to accommodate her ears.

"Aw, Fay, always focusing on looks. At least I got the talent!" a brash voice intruded into the system next. Bill shot his head to the left as a lynx appeared in the air next to him.

"Pilot," Bill said with measured patience, "why is your visor up? You know that's against regulations."

"I can hardly see in this thing! How am I supposed to fly one of the most advanced fighters in the galaxy if I can't see?"

"You went over this in _training, _I'm sure," Bill replied slowly. "It's to display your HUD and give you real-time information via the-"

"All right, all right, I'll put the stupid thing down…"

"You'll put the stupid thing down, what?"

"_Sir."_

Bill shook his head and kept flying. How those two ever made it in independent flight careers was beyond him. The most amazing thing was they weren't half-bad pilots. They had flown with the planetary garrison of Macbeth against the Aparoids and did a stint of independent piloting during the Anglar invasion before joining up with Systems Corps, the new peace quickly drying up most contract opportunities for all but the most renowned and powerful mercenary groups. Star Fox's legacy was to inspire many pilots to try their own hand at modifying their own ships and fighting whatever evil they could, and the creation of the Systems Corps allowed them to keep a chance to fly and have their day in the spotlight. The result was thousands of indie pilots from all walks of life joining the Corps as it prepared to shuttle Lylat into a new future, and _none_ of them had the slightest clue how to be part of a proper army. Pilots like Bill had been stuck seeing them safely into the new world. He wasn't too worried about these two. Fay had passed her tests with flying colors in fact, merging with the Starblazer's new systems like she had always flown it, and Miyu had an impressive kill record. And yet they still managed to act so… _innocent._

Bill envied them something fierce.

"_Red group, report."_

"All clear, Station," Bill replied to the cold, authoritative voice that crackled into his headset. "We've got nothing out here but a beautiful sight."

He turned back to his canopy and looked out at the full power of the Lylat Navy. A gathering of pure military power had been assembled, to assure the battered citizens of Corneria that it was safe, and Lylat was ready to stand on its own. Three full battle groups of Vanguard class frigates and escorting Bulldog class cruisers were in position around Corneria, with the flagship _Solar_ hovering near Alliance Station. The huge orbital outpost stood guard over the massive jump gate that would make easy interstellar travel possible at last, with news shuttles and ferries for dignitaries flowing in and out. It had been expanded on greatly since the Aparoid war, and was more than capable of safely housing up to eight thousand permanent residents. The new peace and unity Lylat was under meant it had been significantly demilitarized, and there was talk of making it into a sort of high end floating hotel and transit station for eventual hopeful colonists, as well as a gathering place for Lylatian diplomats and planetary governors. Bill had only seen pictures of the inside, but it seemed like the place to be if you were rich and influential. They were even making plans about turning it into a diplomatic center and base of operations for future interstellar relations with whatever else might be out there.

Bill knew he'd probably never really get the chance to leave their solar system. It was dangerous, but private ventures would take most of the spearheading, and he'd likely be relegated to keeping Lylat itself safe.

"So, major," Miyu cut into his thoughts, "are we ever going to, you know, _see_ the inside of this place, or is our brush with history limited to just flying circles around it?"

"We'll land when we're ordered to, and not a moment before," Bill answered her.

They continued their patrol around to the front of the station, and even Bill had to admit that the view was breathtaking. They swooped low over the hull of a frigate, getting a panoramic view of the entire area. Lights and ships were everywhere. Not a single place in the sky had a spot where the eyes could rest. Shuttles danced between the smooth, clean lines of Lylatian dreadnoughts and cruisers, parade formations of fighters blazed happy trails in and around all of it. Lights danced over free-floating navigation buoys and lit up the face of Alliance Station, which shined like a holiday tree in the middle of the beehive of spacecraft. It mesmerized the major so much, he jumped in his seat when Station's voice thundered at him.

"_Red group, we've got an unknown contact closing in fast. Investigate immediately. This thing is big."_

Bill blinked and looked to his HUD. Sure enough a large contact was dropping out of warp speed nearby, startling just about anyone who was looking at a scanner screen. It was far outside the designated flight areas, and Bill didn't know of any new arrivals that were coming late. Bill and his squadron swooped towards it, moving fast to intercept the contact right where it would leave subspace and enter visual range. The greyhound felt his heart jump into his throat. What if the catastrophe he'd feared was really happening, and something terrible was coming to ruin all they had worked for?

"Fay, Miyu, form up on my wing, get ready for contact. Probably some unauthorized news vessel trying to get a good angle or something…"

He said it as though it weren't a big deal, but the ship that was incoming was definitely larger than usual. Initial scans put it at the dreadnought class. Bill's mind raced. Was it a final Venomian Imperial remnant making some kind of suicide attack? The thought chilled him. There was no way that they could try something like that here, now, not after their remaining fleet had been smashed. Yet as the large target streaked towards them, and his laser cannons powered up just in case, he couldn't shake an ominous feeling that had the fur itching on the back of his neck.

"Do you think it's pirates?" Miyu asked. "I hope it's pirates. I haven't seen action since the Anglars, for crying out loud!"

"We had a skirmish at Sector Z just three months ago!" Fay argued.

"Yeah, well, three months is a long time to go and not waste any spacer scum," Miyu shot back.

"Pilots! Cut the chatter!" Bill barked. "Both of you shut your cans and stay in formation! We're gonna see it in a few seconds!"

It left subspace and Bill's scanners read it immediately, though he couldn't believe the readings, or his eyes. He felt his heart flutter for a moment in his chest, and for the barest of moments he believed that he was just drifting through a daydream instead of a patrol route. His mouth dropped slack open inside his helmet. It couldn't be. It couldn't. He thought it had been put in dry dock, never to return, ever since he disappeared…

"Is that…" Fay whispered, sounding just as shocked as he felt.

"It is. Damn it and all that's holy, it _is!"_Miyu squealed.

The _Great Fox _streamed by, its proud profile slicing through the void, aiming straight for Alliance Station. It was in front of them only for a few seconds before it passed them by. Bill continued to stare straight ahead at the starry void left behind it, his mouth hanging open and his fingers loose on the controls. A ghost had just flown by his canopy, a legend he had never thought he would see fly again. It had been too long, years even, since he had last seen that beautiful ship in flight. Miyu and Fay were jabbering back and forth about how it was impossible, it was incredible, amazing, heart-stopping, and did it mean that Fox himself had come to Alliance Station, but the buzzing of their voices was lost amongst memories that danced between his ears. The mere thought of flying by their and everyone else's childhood hero had his squadmates thrown back into schoolgirl years. Then the voice came, over the general broadcast frequency, letting them and everyone else know exactly who was on the ship. Bill's heart skipped a beat.

"This is Fox McCloud. I hope I'm not late for the party. You guys got any room for the Great Fox in the middle of all that mess?"

Bill stammered. Not a single person in the entire Station, or any ship around it, could gather the wherewithal to answer their prodigal hero one-on-one.

"If I'm not mistaken, I still have security clearance to take my own ship into dock," Fox spoke again, sounding amused at the stupefied lack of noise his arrival had caused. "So, while you guys figure out if I'm a ghost or not, I'll just slide my baby on in here…"

Bill found his voice, and the shout that had been waiting in his lungs was let loose in a rush of emotion.

"_Foooox!"_

* * *

"Yeah, Bill, it's me," Fox McCloud answered as he settled back in the familiar grooves of his captain's chair. This incarnation of his father's vessel was still new and not quite lived in, but no matter how chairs they replaced, his body always seemed to create the same, comfortable recesses in his chair. He liked to think his father sat with the same bored, happy confidence he was possessed of as he sprawled over the furniture, listening to an old friend celebrate his arrival.

"_Fox, you selfish, arrogant bastard! What the hell, man!"_

"Oh, _he's _happy. I can tell," Slippy Toad said from his regular spot behind Fox, where he monitored all the ship's inner workings. He was smiling to where his cheek dimples looked like small coconuts stuffed into his face.

"Ecstatic, yeah. I was thinking about giving them time to adjust, but. Figured, what the hell." Fox turned back to the communication port.

"It's good to see you too, Bill. I've been waiting to hear your voice."

"_Like hell you have! Look at you! You… you act like nothing's changed! You're just flying in like it's nobody's business!"_

"Has it changed? I wondered on the way here," Fox mused, watching ships ahead of him rush to clear a path. "Maybe it all has. Maybe I just felt like pretending it didn't… I missed a lot."

"_Hell. I missed _you, _Fox. We all did."_

Fox felt his chest tighten.

"I know, Bill. But I'm back now. And I'm here to stay." Embraced by sudden inspiration, he reared out of his seat. "Slippy, video on. I want them to see me." Slippy hesitated, finger hovering, before he pushed the button. Everyone who had the capability to could now see the legend in the flesh. News anchors shouted for their cameras to start broadcasting Fox instead of themselves, station attendants and guests stood in silence no matter how important their business, intrigued by the sudden, bold interruption if not by the fact that they recognized Lylat's greatest hero. Captains ceased giving orders on their ships. And in a small room set aside for them to prepare for the day's proceedings, Falco, Lucy, and Peppy stood slack-jawed as they watched a vid-screen.

"You're live, Fox. All over Corneria, I'd bet," Slippy notified him, and waved for the cameras. Fox spread his arms.

"Hello. I'm going live because I wanted this going on record. So people could know how I really feel. My name is Fox McCloud. This is no recording, no fabricated set-up. I just arrived here, and nobody else knew I was coming but me. I _am _the leader of Star Fox. For the past year and a half, I've been gone from Lylat, into the darkest places of space I could reach. I abandoned Lylat. Abandoned all of you. I left because I thought I had nothing left to hope for here. I thought what I'd really cared for had gone, and I had to go find it again. After the Anglar invasion my mind, my _heart _was in pieces. I had forgotten what I was supposed to do. I had forgotten the charge left behind by another hero, whose name I'm only barely worthy of carrying on… my father, James. He didn't just leave me a ship and a team. He left me, and all of us, a charge. A responsibility. A legacy. He died in the name of preserving peace, and fighting against a tyrant. He died because he didn't want _anyone _else dying in his place. When he flew against Andross he wasn't doing it alone. He knew others would follow. Others like me. I had almost been ready to give up the path my father laid out before me."

He didn't know where it was coming from, but Fox felt his heart swell. He stepped closer to the viewscreen and took in the view of Alliance Station, of Corneria shining behind it. His home, everything he had helped to build and protect, was _right there._ He pointed into the camera, and the gesture was intimately felt by every Lylatian who was watching.

"And now I look, and I see an entire solar system ready to follow in my father's footsteps! What you've built here is proof that I can go to sleep soundly, knowing that all of Lylat is standing with me! I tore the heart out of Imperial Venom, destroyed Andross, and looked into his face before he died! I flew right into the heart of the Aparoid homeworld and knew the terror of an enemy that had no remorse! I cut the Anglar invasion in half! But I did _not _do it alone! Everything I did, I did with my team at my side, and Lylat at my back! You fought, and bled, and died right with me, and I was blind not to see it until now! I went down that road because that was the path opened by my father's bravery. I followed his footsteps, and you took up the call right alongside me. And now where there was just empty space, Alliance Station is here. _You _are all here, and we are ready to tell the galaxy, the _universe _what we can do together! We are no longer a system torn apart by war and chaos! No longer just the Cornerian Alliance, Imperial Venom, or ragtag colonies! We are one people, with one dream, and one voice!

"_WE ARE LYLAT!"  
_

_

* * *

_

It was incredible. They could hear the cheering echoing throughout the station, through doors and bulkheads.

Peppy was incredulous, his arms limp at his sides, ears drooping. Lucy had taken his arm and took a deep, shivering breath, feeling tears in her eyes.

"Hey… Peppy," the General heard Falco mutter out of the side of his beak. "I think we can ditch the speech prompts."


End file.
